José might have been a little lost at first, but he wasn’t aimless anymore.

  The old man under the tree had insisted with him to smack bunnies with a staff. José hadn’t stuck around for that. He’d mumbled something polite and wandered off to explore the nearby village on his own.

  Everyone here moved with purpose. Not the frantic rushing between jobs and traffic he was used to in the city, but a calm kind of focus. People looked excited about whatever it was they were doing. And when he greeted them, they smiled and greeted him back. In Boston, people usually kept their heads down, wrapped up in their own lives. The best you could hope for was a nod or a mumbled hello.

  Most of the players scurrying about were younger than him. There were even children. But now and then, he spotted someone closer to his age. At least he wasn’t the only older one visiting this game world.

  The village pulled at something deep in him. The stacked-stone houses reminded him of his grandfather’s village in Portugal. There was a similar stillness to the place.

  He remembered carrying baskets of vegetables, drinking cool water from the well, and the taste of fresh milk—so different from the watery stuff they sold at supermarkets.

  With the memories came a twinge of sadness. That village was deserted now. The young had long since left for the cities, and the old had passed on. A few years ago, his cousin had sent him a photo. It was heartbreaking. Cracked walls, collapsed roofs, overgrown paths. It hurt, seeing it like that. Especially because he knew how sad his late father and grandfather would have felt seeing it.

  At the edge of town, the land opened into rolling green fields. He stopped to take it in. When was the last time he’d seen this much open space? No fences, no traffic, no cement, just blue skies and green grass rippling in the wind. The air smelled of tilled earth and growing things.

  He walked on.

  The further he got from the village, the more real the game world felt. There were no floating name tags or ridiculous outfits. Just the wind in the grass and the creak of his boots on the path.

  So this is where Jack spends his time, he thought, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

  He hadn’t expected the place to be so beautiful. It didn’t seem like Jack either. The boy had always loved city life.

  The village was long behind him now, replaced by scattered homes and open fields. Then something unusual broke his quiet walk.

  You’re running low on stamina.

  You have to eat something soon.

  The words hovered in the air right in front of him. His hand drifted to his stomach. He didn’t feel hungry, but something was off. His body felt heavier, as if he’d walked twice as far as he actually had. In the corner of his vision, a yellow bar pulsed in warning.

  He stared at the floating text telling him to eat.

  What a strange game.

  He looked around, searching for anything that looked like food. Up ahead, a squat farmhouse sat between several fruit trees, their branches drooping under the weight of apples.

  “I’ll just ask for an apple,” he muttered. “No harm in that.”

  The gate stood open. He walked up the path, expecting someone to appear, but no one came. The place was silent.

  The trees looked wild and untrimmed. Fallen fruit covered the ground beneath them, some fresh, others with flies buzzing around them. Stakes marked out the shape of an old garden, but the vegetables had long since given way to weeds.

  He frowned. The sight poked at the same ache he felt when he thought of his grandfather’s deserted village, the way good places disappeared when people left.

  Then he heard a creak.

  He followed the sound and saw her.

  An old woman sat on a wide porch, rocking slowly in a wooden chair. A thick shawl rested around her shoulders, and her silver hair was pulled back in a neat bun. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon.

  “Hello?” José called.

  The woman turned her head toward him. “Oh? A stranger. Around these parts. That’s rare.”

  “Excuse me, lady. Would you mind if I grab a couple of apples? The game is telling me to eat.”

  She nodded. “Go ahead. They’re only going to waste anyway,” she said quietly. “Wilbert was the one who took care of things, but…” Her voice thinned as she trailed off, her gaze shifting back toward the horizon.

  José grabbed three fruits that looked fresh and crisp, just fallen from the tree. Their skins were cool, a little speckled, and they gave a satisfying crunch as he bit in. The first bite flooded his mouth with sweet, tart juice, and almost immediately, the sluggish weight in his body began to lift. As he finished the third apple, the hovering messages vanished from view.

  He turned back toward the porch. “Did this Wilbert stop playing the game?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer.

  Her silence stretched just a little too long. She kept rocking slowly in her chair, her gaze still far off, focused on something only she could see.

  He waited, then frowned. Maybe she hadn’t heard him. But there was something off about here.

  Then she spoke.

  “Oh, Wilbert… A sweetheart he was. He didn’t talk much, but he was hardworking. Worked the farm until his last breath.”

  “I see...”

  He looked at her again. She spoke of this farm as being real. This wasn’t a real person. It had to be a character in the game.

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  Still, her words struck a chord. He couldn’t help but picture his wife ending up just like her. Alone on a porch, staring at nothing, with a house falling apart around her.

  No, José. You promised your boy. You can’t lose hope yet.

  The lady sighed as she rocked. José glanced at the road ahead, then at the weeds and fallen fruit and all the small, quiet tasks that needed doing.

  He turned back to her. “Is there anything I can do to help you, ma’am?”

  “I don’t want to bother you, traveler. You must have somewhere to go.”

  “You just let me eat from your apple trees. I’d like to pay you back for your kindness.”

  The lady smiled kindly. “In that case, can you go get water from the well over there and use it to water the plants around the house?”

  You’ve become a farmer-in-training.

  You’ve temporarily learned [Watering].

  Watering (Common)

  Skill level: 1

  Skill description: You can water plants.

  Skill effects: When you water plants, their growth speeds up.

  José waved at the message, mildly irritated.

  What stupid thing is this? I know how to water plants. Why is it telling me I’ve just learned it?

  Before he could move, the old woman raised a finger.

  “Now, if you’re going to draw water from the well, pull the bucket up slowly. If you go too fast, you’ll spill half before you even get it to the top.”

  “I know, I—” José began, but she was already continuing.

  “And when you water the plants, add just the right amount. Too much, and you’ll drown them. Too little, and they’ll stay thirsty.”

  José opened his mouth again, paused… then closed it. He gave a small nod. “Got it.”

  She gave a satisfied smile and went back to rocking.

  He found the well easily enough. As he grabbed the rope and began to crank, the creaking wood and the grind of rope against stone stirred something in him.

  He was a boy again, back in Portugal, hauling water with his grandfather in the heat of summer. Listening for the splash, feeling the cold water slosh against his fingers as he grabbed the full bucket.

  He carried the water back to the house, where a neat line of terracotta pots sat under the eaves. Mint, coriander, tiny strawberry plants with delicate white flowers. The herbs looked thirsty, their leaves slightly curled.

  Where’s the hose? Or the watering can?

  He glanced around, unsure what to use. Before he could figure it out, the old woman’s voice drifted toward him again.

  “You forgot to get the ladle, dear.”

  He walked back around to the porch. She held out a small metal ladle. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  He returned to the pots and began to spoon water into each one. Each time he watered a plant, a message popped up.

  You’ve watered a plant.

  +1 XP in farming.

  He ignored it. He focused on the work. The slow rhythm. The soft splash of water. The way the soil darkened as it soaked it in.

  When he was done, he returned to the porch.

  “Thank you,” the lady said with a nod. She reached into the folds of her shawl and pulled out a small cloth pouch. “Would you mind planting these for me? Pepper seeds. I was hoping to get them in before the rains come.”

  He accepted the pouch carefully. “Of course.”

  “Use that flowerbed over there.”

  You’ve temporarily learned [Sowing].

  José moved toward the flowerbed, but just as he knelt down beside it, her voice called out again.

  “Don’t plant them too deep, now. Just a little hole, and a thin layer of soil over it. Wilbert used to press his thumb to make the hole.”

  “I know how—” He stopped himself. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And space them just a finger apart. No less. They get crowded otherwise.”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  “Then you pat the soil down. Gentle, like you’re tucking a baby in.”

  He chuckled softly and bowed his head. “Tucking a baby in. Got it.”

  He did as she said, moving slowly, planting the seeds neatly.

  You’ve planted a pepper.

  +1 XP in Farming

  When was the last time he’d planted something?

  His thoughts drifted back to when Jack was a toddler and had asked where fries came from. They’d planted a potato in a pot on the balcony. He chuckled at the memory—how Jack’s eyes had gone wide when they dug it up weeks later and found a whole handful of potatoes waiting in the dirt.

  “It’s a miracle,” Jack had said, wonder in his voice. There was a tape of it somewhere. He should look for it.

  José shook the dirt from his hands and returned to the porch.

  “Ma’am, I finished planting the seeds, just like you asked.”

  “Oh, thank you, sir. You have a knack for farming.”

  José smiled. “Don’t mention it. I was happy to help.”

  She hesitated, then added, “One more thing, if it’s not too much... Could you help clear the field? I just don’t have the strength. There’s a hoe leaning by the shed.”

  You’ve temporarily learned [Tilling].

  The hoe was worn but solid, its wooden handle polished smooth by years of use.

  As he stepped toward the edge of the field, the woman called out, cupping her hands around her mouth.

  “Don’t try to muscle the rocks! Just work around them, then pull them free. Slow and steady.”

  He turned and gave her a half-laughing salute. “Understood.”

  The hoe came down with a satisfying thwak.

  You’ve tilled the land.

  +1 XP in Farming.

  He waved the message away clumsily, still not used to the pop-ups interrupting his view.

  Jack would have called him crazy, but this was... relaxing. He liked the rhythm of the work, the feel of the sun on his back, and the scent of turned earth.

  One day, he’d told Maria, they’d have a little garden. On one side, he’d grow vegetables. On the other side, she would grow flowers. And they’d sit together on the porch and watch it grow.

  The thought caught in his throat. He swallowed hard. But now he wasn’t going to get the chance to do that.

  Not yet. I’m not done yet. Trust the boy.

  He tightened his grip on the hoe and poured himself into the work.

  After an hour of work—and a few pauses to eat apples—he finally finished clearing the land.

  Wiping sweat from his brow, he looked out over the little square of soil. It wasn’t much. Just a simple patch, neatly turned. But it filled him with a quiet satisfaction.

  He made his way back to the house, where the old woman still rocked gently in her chair.

  “I finished tilling the soil, just like you asked.”

  “Oh, thank you, sir. Truly. You’ve done more than you know.”

  A series of glowing messages appeared in front of him:

  Congratulations!

  You’ve become a Farmer!

  You’ve learned [Watering], [Sowing], and [Tilling].

  José raised an eyebrow at the floating text. Then something clicked.

  The messages. The little pop-ups. The way the old woman had given him tasks, with instructions that seemed oddly specific.

  Jack told them he’d become a beekeeper, a potter, and a handyman in the game. He’d talked about learning real-life skills here, but José hadn’t understood what that really meant until now.

  He thought back on everything the woman had asked him to do. Drawing water. Tending herbs. Preparing the earth. They weren’t just chores. They were lessons. The kind of work his father and grandfather used to do. The kind of work that taught rhythm, patience, and care.

  And, sadly, the kind of work most of the younger generation had never done.

  And these silly little pop-ups with their flashing XP and cheerful “You’ve learned!” messages... maybe they weren’t so silly. Maybe they were the reason Jack kept logging in. They were small acknowledgements. A steady drip of validation. A way to measure progress, even if no one else noticed.

  He looked out over the patch of land one more time, then down at his hands.

  This world might be fake, but the dirt under his nails, the sweat on his brow, and the sense of purpose in his chest—those were real.

  He turned to the lady. “Who’s going to sow the field?”

  She took a deep breath. “I will. Once I’ve rested.”

  “Why don’t I help you with that?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Would you?”

  José shrugged. “Why not? Who knows? Maybe you can teach me a couple more things.”

  The woman smiled and reached into the folds of her shawl, pulling out a small coin pouch. She beckoned him closer.

  “Here. Go to Amanda’s store and buy us a hundred turnip seeds.”

  You’ve received a quest: [Turn Those Turnips].

  José chuckled as he accepted the pouch, as if his grandmother were sending him on an errand. As he turned toward the path, he found himself wondering where Jack was in this vast world and what kind of missions he was up to.

  He couldn’t wait to tell him about his own adventure.